


Where The Snow Falls

by kittybenzedrine



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Apocalypsestuck, Minor Violence, Nuclear Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittybenzedrine/pseuds/kittybenzedrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Get a bag, pack light. You have ten minutes," Bro told him, heading to his own room. "Bring your two best swords."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sixteen minutes after they were out of the city, it was obliterated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where The Snow Falls

_They were about 250 miles outside of the nuclear wasteland that was Houston, Texas. The moment the TV had begun blaring out warnings of possible bomb threats in many of Texas's major cities, Bro got up._

_"Houston, Galveston, San Antonio, Corpus Christi, Lubbock, Dallas, Waco, El Paso, Odessa, Fort Worth. This is not a drill. These cities are in potential danger and need to evacuate to bunkers immediately. Also in danger are California, Washington D.C., Colorado, Massachusetts, and the list will be updated within the next ten minutes." the newscaster nearly squeaked out, looking like she was ready to bail._

_"Get a bag, pack light. You have ten minutes," Bro told him, heading to his own room. "Bring your two best swords."_

_Sixteen minutes after they were out of the city, it was obliterated._

 

It had been a long trek since the truck had run out of gas about four days ago.

When they came upon the gas station, the place seemed deserted. No people in sight. He even searched around to make sure. They hid out, ignoring the smell of old milk and long rotted eggs. Somehow, the place hadn't been picked over. Crappy 50 cent honeybuns and knock off brand soda were the best thing Dave had tasted in a week.  
   
Bags were stuffed full of packaged food and canned stuff, and they prepared everything for another part of the journey tomorrow. They found a break room in the back, adorned with nudie mags, a couch, and some more snacks that were quickly stuffed into their bags. 

“Probably just a few more days,” Bro’d told him quietly, laying out a blanket on the floor, "and we'll be to Dallas." Dave laid on it before Bro could, and gave him a look. “You’ve slept on the floor every time. You get the couch.” Bro frowned, but didn't argue. Dave was stubborn.

They chilled back until the sun set, making shitty jokes and filling themselves with canned Spam and snacks stuffed with preservatives. Dave stretched out, letting his back pop and his swollen feet rest. Bro did the same, putting a hand down to muse his brother's hair. "Night, little man."

"Night, Bro."  
 

 

Dave was deep in sleep, dreaming of his friends when a crash at the door jolted both boys awake. Bro was already up, blinking sleep away and welding both of his swords as the door was forced open. Dave rolled away and grabbed his as well, standing side by side with his bro.

Both were bleary eyed and exhausted, but there was no mistake that the five people at the door meant harm. Three women, two men. They all had guns. 

One woman, an ugly thing with faded red hair dye, gave a grin. They were all hillbillies, without a doubt. Classic deep south hillbillies. "Well, well, well, boys, lookie here. We got us some fresh meat. Sneakin' 'round here like a buncha rats."

Bro slowly tucked his feet into his slip on shoes, keeping his eyes on them. "We don't want any bloodshed. We'll leave, no questions asked," he said quietly, his swords down by his sides. 

A tall, scrawny man stood awkwardly, his leg appearing to be crippled. "And ya'think we're just gonna let you an' the kid go?"

Bro rolled his shoulders. "I'd suggest that, actually. We're not here for trouble. We would have moved on if we would have known you guys had claimed this place. We'll move on and you'll never have to see us again." Dirk Martha Strider, such a smooth talker.

While they were distracted, Dave slipped his own shoes on, trying to ignore the ugly redhead that kept shooting him looks.

"Where, uh, where 're you folks headin'?" She asked, cocking one hip out and putting a hand on it.

"Our mom and dad's house, up around Waco," he lied seamlessly, his face impassive. "Gotta make sure Mom and Pop are okay. Phone lines are down, y'know, we just gotta go see them. Maybe see if they made it to a bunker or something." He shrugged. 

She nodded slowly. "Uh-huuuuuh. Interestin'."

Bro nodded back, keeping his swords down. Dave kept his up, staying wide eyed and trying to look as scared as possible. "So, let us pass and we'll be on our way and out of your hair," the elder Strider assured them, bumping Dave with his hip. He lowered his swords after a moment of hesitation. She smiled.

"I don't think so."

Bro disarmed two with minimal damage to them, and Dave got one. The other two panicked and shot wildly, narrowly missing them. 

"Dave, go," Bro demanded in his don't-fucking-argue tone of voice. With no hesitation, Dave scooped up his bag and slashed at one of the armed rednecks. A gun clattered to the floor in response, and the lady squealed in pain.

"Go, head north. Don't look back, don't wait. Go."

Dave ran for everything he had.

He didn't miss Bro crying out in pain as another gunshot rang out.

 

The effects of nuclear winter were beginning to set in. Ash and snow fell from the sky, and Dave had never been more grateful that Bro made him keep a blanket and jacket in his pack. His rations were beginning to dwindle, so he neglected to eat two meals a day, to make it last as long as possible. His water and soda were also starting to dwindle. He needed to find somewhere to stock up again.

The snow was gray, and didn't look like it would be safe to drink, even if it was boiled. Snow soaked his shoes, and he was grateful as well that Bro made him stock up on socks and undies. He trekked on, eventually having to put his shades away because it got too dark. 

Funny, his watch only read that it was 1pm.

Advertisements of the bunker stood everywhere, telling you you had x amount of miles until Dallas, x amount of miles until the bunker, just follow this road! So on he went, following the road and changing his socks every hour or so.

Slowly, the x amount of miles grew shorter. After two days and little sleep, it grew to only two miles. 

The amount of people that he'd seen since the snow began had quickly diminished. The amount of bodies grew in its place.

He changed into his last pair of socks, his shaking nearly uncontrollable by this point. Damn, it was cold.

This pair had to last him the last hour it would take to get there. They had to. He munched on a packaged cherry pie as he went along, his eyes scanning everywhere, his ears sharp, listening.

It shockingly went without indecent. The entrance was built into a man-made hill, an intercom set up next to the steel blast door. A camera in the corner tracked his every move. He hit the button on the intercom with the handle of his sword. "Let me in."

 

He was hooked into several drips for dehydration and malnutrition, and wrapped in thermal blankets to offset the hypothermia that he had. They were shocked that his fingers and toes hadn't turned black.

"We got another one coming in," a nurse peeped to the medbay doctor. "Gunshot, hypothermia, malnutrition, dehydration, a bit delirious, the works." The doctor nodded and mentioned for her to lead the person in.

The needles painfully ripped from Dave's skin as he launched himself to his feet. Twin swords clattered to the floor. Eyes met.

 

Bro hadn't hugged him like this since he was a kid.


End file.
